


Spin Quinn

by Moonstone_Plus



Category: Andi Mack (TV), Lab Rats (TV 2012)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstone_Plus/pseuds/Moonstone_Plus
Summary: Having escaped from a life forced upon him, Spin goes to track down the last members of his birth family. After a long search, he finds out about his long lost older brother, Bowie Quinn.
Relationships: Spin (Lab Rats) & Bowie Quinn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Spin Quinn

Stolen from early childhood. Enhanced with abilities. Trained to kill.

That was his life, that was what he knew. He was a bionic soldier. Once used for evil, now reprogrammed to fight for good. Either way, used and controlled. He needed his escape and to know who he was actually meant to be. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to be used, he had enough of being Bionic for hire.

His fellow ‘hired’ soldiers didn’t seem to actually care about their laid out lives, being content with the so called destinies as freedom fighters carved out for them with Davenport created chips. They were not humans. They were nothing more than robotic hitmen. Sold off to the highest bidders in need of some dirty work where the blood wasn’t on their hands. 

That was the life of a Sheep.

Spin couldn’t and wouldn’t accept that to be his life.

Instead he had another ‘life’ in mind, one where he would ignore the pathetic Davenport created world and carve a path of his own. His world would never hear the term Bionic again. All beginning with a simple piece of human creation.

A knife.

Allowing him to make a quick removal of the chip forced upon him by adult hands. His body was basically raped by an old man who thought they knew best for him. Then taken to do the bidding of a rich scientist and his children. If that was the life of the wealthy, then they could keep it.

One day, he would make them pay for what Davenport technology forced Children to grow into. Without choice.

His chip removed, he focused on what he would need for his next step. His blood. Not the red liquid flowing within but a fellow human, who held that same blood. Some would call it family but until they proved it to him. They would be nothing more than his blood.

Thanks to information taken by his more recent captures, it was simple enough to find who shared his blood and now he had his target. 

Steven ‘Bowie’ Quinn.

The man hadn’t been hard to find. A Bowie Quinn was the subject of many newspaper articles detailing a young woman finding out that her older sister was her mother and Bowie was the father. From what he read, there were already talks about turning it into a television series for something called Disney. There happened to be a small article or two listing him in some band, but nothing worth any actual attention. Their music, based on what he heard on Youtube, was tolerable at best.

Thus, Spin headed for their last known location.

Shadyside.

As the countryside flew past him. The young teen felt strange through the taxi ride through Shadyside, having never seen a town so bright and sunny like this one before. Living on a man-made island in the ocean did that to you. Snorting, Spin noted that he was yet to see any actual shade that wasn’t cast by one of the hundreds of umbrellas lining storefronts. Each block had walls graffitied like they were art displays, children drawing on the pavement with chalk, fancy-looking stores enticing to the eye despite his resolve to ignore them all. Especially the clothing stores, with Spin itching to get out of the skin-tight black suit with the red-and-silver Davenport logo he had hidden under a heavy denim jacket.

Honestly, it looked like a rainbow had puked out a town. He hadn’t seen anything this disgusting since the taxi ride had crossed through a town that seemed to wear nothing but baby blue, pinks and hideous neon greens.

He continued to roll his eyes as they drove past a cafe called, The Spoon.

Out of everything he had seen over the last few days of travelling, that had been one of the stupidest.

At least there was a cool-looking record store downtown, which from the quick look in the window seemed to be run by some Hippy. He could survive that, however, if the hippy at least knew good music. Not that Spin cared too much as his eyes were drawn to the drum set sitting against the back wall. 

It took all the will he had not to run in there and buy it with the cash he had snagged from the Bionic Academy. Davenport’s, while smart with their child capturing technology, seemed to be stupid with hiding access to their billions. He didn’t think they would miss a chunk.

The rest of Shadyside went past like a colourful blur, almost lulling the teenage boy to sleep as the car drove down twists and turns. His eyelids felt heavy, drooping low over Spin’s dark eyes and drawing to a close for seconds at a time. Even a superhuman could not fend off sleep for long and after a few minutes of battle Spin lay in the backseat of a taxi with his lips parted and a soft snore escaping him. For the first time in a few days Spin looked quite peaceful. The anger gone from his face, brow relaxed and eyebrows no longer bend down into a nasty glare. He looked almost happy. Perhaps it was the distance away from the Island, or his body sensing how close he was to his true home. 

This look returned with a vengeance upon the car coming to its final stop in front of a small row of houses all joined together. The far right was the most decorated, and unfortunately the exact one the taxi stopped at.

“Why did we stop?” Spin asked with a low voice, still groggy in the hazy mist of sleep. Both eyes refused to stay open for long, blinking and causing light to blink into his vision.

“We have arrived, kid.”

Looking down at his phone, Spin’s heart sank. Sure enough, this was the destination. The house that looked too colourful to be real, and like someone had dropped a basket full of sheets all over it, tangled up with christmas lights.

“Oh… Right. How much for the drive?”

The smirk and twinkle in the taxi driver’s eyes had Spin’s wallet emptying quickly. Apparently, a taxi drive from Mission Creek to Shadyside, wasn’t the best choice of traveling. Even if it is more peaceful. That being said it wasn’t entirely Spin’s fault for the poor decision. After all, he didn’t really know the first thing about money let alone the outside world. It did leave him with a little amount of cash but made him wish that he had taken a little more of Davenport funds.

If this blood didn’t work out, he would survive for a while.

Leaving Spin standing where he was now. No bags, no identity and no home to go back to. Just a stolen wallet, the clothes on his back and a freshly healed scar on his neck. The flesh is still raw and pink, but a clean fix. With nothing left to lose, he pressed the small white button next to the door, calling out to his new life.

The boy wished that he had something to wash his hands with. Something about this house was fishy to him.

There had been chatter inside, laughter and lively conversation of a small but happy family over a meal until the doorbell rang. All sound died and the once-Bionic boy heard movement. A shadow cast over the sheet covering the front door, approaching slowly. Whoever it was took a foolish approach, coming with his head turned away. Spin knew from his training that this was the prime moment for an attack even from the other side of the door, but shook off the shadowy thoughts of his days as a soldier. Unclenched his balled up fists, suppressing his instinct to fight.

After a few moments the door opened to reveal a tall man with wide shoulders and long tangled hair roughly tied back into a messy ponytail. He looked similar to the hippy. His jawline was solid and covered in stubble, an image of near perfect handsomeness in any eye bar Spins. He just saw a man fit for fighting.

“Steven Quinn?”

“Uhm…” The man looked back at two others, both females. They stared queerly at the door, spying a young boy with short mousy-brown hair and a serious expression. “It’s Bowie, actually. Are you here to see Andi or something, kid?”

“No. I’m here for you Steven.” Spin responded, his tone firm. “Are you going to invite me in, or shall I continue to stand on your doorstep.”

“I don’t even know who you are- And you’re in my house now…” Bowie was easily brushed aside by Spin, who walked right past and into the living room. It too was covered in various different sheets with pretty patterns and a range of colours, stacked up into a cozy little fort filled with beanbags, a bowl of snacks and even the TV. 

“Stop wasting time, Steven. If you are who I believe you are, then you’re not going to care about that.” Spin responded. “Your house could use a little dulling. Are those bowls… paper?”

Bowie looked to the paper bowls and was about to answer, but closed his mouth in time. That wasn’t important. He just needed to know why there was some kid in his living room demanding his way inside. “Look, I’m having dinner with my family. Maybe you can come speak with me tomorrow when I’m not busy?”

“That’s nice. I don’t care.” Spin replied, taking a seat. “What do you remember about ten years ago? Did anything happen of note, Steven?”

“Ten years ago? Uh…” Bowie fell silent thinking back that far, searching his memory for something of note. He was twenty-two back then, taking the prime of his life to party it up and hammer down on a now failed music career, while also getting email updates about four-year-old, Andi. He felt proud that despite the break up, Bex’s father still kept him in the know about their newest daughter. But aside from that, Bowie couldn’t remember much about that year at all. There was something in the back of his mind that blocked him from going too far. Until Spin spoke.

“Did someone or something go missing in your life, Steven?” Spin pressed.

Bowie’s face fell. He looked ready to faint. Memories rushed back, six years worth of images flooded his mind releasing a flood gate of repressed memories. Images of himself at age sixteen flashed into Bowie’s mind like a mirror.

“My little brother… Max. He died.”

Spin never actually knew what the families were told about their children going missing, hadn’t come to terms with the fact that to some people he was a ghost. Deep down somewhere inside the small bastion of humanity inside Spin was hurt. Bowie’s tone just saying those six little words made him feel genuine sadness for the man. Not enough to breach his firm demeanor but it was still there inside Spin.

“That’s what they told you? What would you say, If I was to tell you that Max wasn't killed? That he never died?” Spin questioned. Keeping the full story away from the older man. “Tell me, Steven. How old was Max?”

With trembling lips, Bowie spoke. Unaware of the woman’s arms wrapping around his shoulders or the tears welling in his eyes. “Six… It was his birthday… wh-when he-”

Bowie choked on the last words.

“Disappeared. Max didn’t die on that day, Steven.”

“What are you talking about!” The woman with short black hair snapped, “Can’t you see he’s upset!”

“Oh I see, and he should be. He went ten years without looking for Max. There wasn’t a body, was there Steven.” Spin responded, dark eyes pinned to Bowie. “Instead, he was here… making another family.”

“There was.” Bowie choked out. “I saw it...”

“Did you Bowie, did you. I know for a fact that Max’s body wasn’t there.” Slinging an arm over the couch, Spin cast a look around the room. That little piece of him inside tried to push forward but was held down by sixteen years of anger. “Do you want to know what happened to him, Steven?”

“Get out!” Bex growled, trying to comfort her husband.

“Oh I could… and your husband there, won’t know what actually happened to Max. Nor, where Max is now.” Spin continued flatly. His tone cold. He wouldn’t forgive his blood, unless he earned it. 

Bowie looked up and took a slow step towards Spin, as his daughter took a step back. Looking the boy dead in the eye with such focus and intent that even Spin felt a little unnerved. Unaware if this was some attack or something more. Bowie’s voice was low when he finally spoke, barely even a whisper. “W-Where is MAX!” 

Spin smirked. “I’ll tell you, soon enough but first take a seat. I think you need to hear a little story. About a little six-year-old, taken from his loved ones under the ‘watchful eye’ of someone he trusted. Yes Steven, Max was taken. He wasn’t killed or hurt, yet.”

With nothing to hold back his words, Bowie yelled. “I saw the fucking body!”

“I don’t know what or who you saw, Bowie. It wasn’t Max. That I can promise you and I’ll prove in time.” Spin replied, no malice in his voice. Just the truth. Truth that all three of the listens could tell. They didn’t want to believe it, but knew the kid wasn’t lying.

“D-dad what’s going on?” A soft voice asked from the kitchen, scared eyes on Spin. Andi couldn’t understand how a child slightly older than her own age was making her father yell like that.

“He’s just hearing about the story of his little brother, your Uncle.” Spin told her simply. “Now Steven, are you going to hear me out or shall I leave like your wife demanded and you never hear the truth about Max?”

Bowie swallowed hard. “The hell do you know about Max?”

“Max and I are very close. I know every aspect of his life since that fateful day. It was Max that believed you should know this story.” Spin said, with his voice softening but tone remaining the same. He shifted a little on the couch, leaving space for Bowie should he chose to sit down. Though that seemed unlikely. Not that he truly cared. His so called brother hadn’t bothered looking for him, and he wouldn’t feel guilty for making him suffer. “Now, what’s your decision. Steven.”

“Tell me. Tell me whatever the fuck you think you know…” Bowie glared, hating this child but lacking the will to kick him out just yet.

“Language Steven. Your mother would be ashamed. How is Cookie, by the way?” Spin smirked. Knowing his mother’s name would shock the man.

All three Macks just stared at the boy, wondering how on earth some kid out of nowhere knew of Max and Cookie. Bex barely knew the woman and had a child with the man, but here was some kid asking how she was doing. Something wasn’t right about this and anyone could see it. So after that remark Andi was sent to her room where she would spend hours texting her friends with an ear pressed to the door, Bex busied herself shakily making tea and Bowie forced himself into the armchair as far away from the boy as possible. Biting his lip and clawing at the couch, unsure what to so with himself as Spin spoke. 

“Ten years ago, Max was kidnapped alongside numerous other kids around America. I’m sure you remember the articles about the disappearances.”

“Yeah… something about it. I was too busy mourning my brother to care.” Bowie snapped.

“Well, unknown to most they were linked. All of the taken children were taken in the name of one man. Victor Krane.”

Bowie raised an eyebrow, remembering that name very vaguely. “Isn’t he dead or something?”

“He is now, yes. Krane however at the time was involved in a rivalry in a technology that would change the world forever. A rivalry with Donald Davenport. A name, you should recognise.” Spin continued. He knew the Davenport name had been lowered in recent years due to all of the Bionic troubles and government cover ups, but the brand was still well known. “Do you happen to know what Davenport’s best known for? It was a massive story for months.”

“Those Bionic things? I didn’t think that stuff was true,” Bowie shrugged, his eyes still puffy. Running through memories of his younger brother, grief washing over him in tidal waves.

“Well, it was.” The young teen pulled out his phone and showed a video of the Davenport children, using their powers. “Krane wanted this technology. He wanted to make use of it but to do so, meant that he needed test subjects.”

Bowie rubbed between his nose with a sigh, leaning forward in his chair. “Look kid, what does Max have to do with any of this?”

“Max was one of these test subjects. All of those children were, they were to be used until Krane made his way through all of them and failed, or succeeded in giving them Bionics.” Spin revealed with a rising anger in his voice. 

The boy didn’t care that he had basically revealed that Max had been taken to be a pig ready for the slaughter house

Bowie looked like he couldn’t process this all, his brain refusing to accept some things but too scared to accept the rest. “No… No. I told you, there was a body and everything! My brother was there, cold and… and dead.”

“A body that wasn’t Max’s. You can hear it in my tone, Steven. I’m not lying and you know it.” Spin rolled his eyes. “Max is alive.”

“Then where is he!” Bowie slammed his fist down on the chair.

“Closeby. I have my orders. If you don’t listen to the story, then Max leaves and you will never see him.”

With a shuddered breath, the man looked back down. “Then keep going…”

“Good choice. Krane managed to succeed with his bionic technology, however he had something on Davenport. He added something. Complete submission and control. The captured children were no longer human in a sense. He turned them into his robots. Robots ready for war. A war that they had no choice to fight in.” Spin responded, his own memories keeping his voice soft. “Both sides of the Bionic War used children. Max was the youngest, and often sent in first. His powers didn’t match up to the others and he was seen as the weakest link.”

He noted that Bowie looked frightened at the thought, fearing that his younger brother would be hurt. A look that was almost more powerful than the thought of Max being six feet under the ground; Spin was glad to see his plan working thus far but knew he needed to push further than this.

Bowie had his head in his hands, shaking from left to right. Not uttering a word or taking notice when Bex placed a cup of coffee in front of him before taking her place on the arm of his chair. She placed one in front of Spin, too, but wasn’t quite happy about handing over the cup to him.

“Max was often left bloody but he survived. Then the final battle came. Krane and his army of Bionic made Children vs Davenport and his Bionic Children. While Krane was the only true victim of that final battle, death-wise, nothing was the same. Krane had a back-up plan within his technology and the Bionic Children knew nothing of where they came from and were left alone, with no place to go. Thus they went to the winner. Max became the property of Donald Davenport.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Bowie said quietly, though if it was to himself, Bex or Spin was left up in the air. “How did he find me?”

“We are getting there. Davenport decided to make a school for the taken children. Forcing them onto a man-made island, away from all human contact and limited pretty much everything away from them. Instead, the children were made to learn how to be warriors by Davenport’s children. The man getting them ready to fight for him and the government, as a form of security for the country. Once again, they were an army. It was at this school that Max began to wise up.”

With a surprise tone of voice, Bowie asked something that confused Spin. Showing care where care was not expected. “Were you one of them, too?”

“I was. Continuing on, Max worked his way into the lives of the Davenport family, building a trusting rivalry with the ‘outcast’ of the family, an idiot who fell for Max’s teasing remarks and would end up giving Max the ability to find out about you. It turned out, Davenport had a backup plan. If Bionic students were killed, then they would find their way back to their family. This was only when their time was up and were no longer of any use to him. You and Cookie, were listed as the ones to take care of Max’s final resting spots.”

“That’s horrible!” Bex cut in, disgust in her voice. Hugging Bowie tighter, she looked to the man as realisation washed over her. “Wait if that’s the only way to find out… does that mean Max is…?”

“We will get to that soon. Max didn’t take this information well and it led him into a dark path for a while. He knew he couldn’t take the Davenport family on, which left only one choice in his mind. He had to remove himself from their world. A plan that took the shape of a knife that he stole during an attempted ‘birthday celebration’ for one of the Davenport siblings.”

It was clear to anyone that those words had Bex and Bowie sinking low into their places, a renewed tear running down the man’s face fearing the worst had come of his brother. Though he couldn’t speak up in time, as Spin cut in.

“Without fear in his eyes, Max took that knife and in one firm slice, cut himself. Deep.”

“Stop!” Bowie choked, hating the image in his mind. “Don’t- Ju-just please… don’t say it.”

“Steven, you need to hear the rest of this. The cut was deep enough to take out his chip. Max did remove himself from the world, he removed what made him one of them.”

Neither adult seemed to fully understand, but they grasped the idea. What made Max a part of that dark world was cut from his neck, but he was alive. 

Bowie sipped his drink, then looked up at Spin. Despite the drink his throat was still a desert, “Please let me see him…”

Spin decided to make him wait. To give the older man time to process everything.

“Tomorrow. You know the record shop? We saw it on the way into town. We will meet you there.”

Bex stood up, looking hesitant. She bit her lip and hummed to herself, looking half unwilling to speak after all this. It wasn’t her place to add anything, but motherly instinct was a bitch. “Do… do you have a place to sleep for the night?”

“Max and I will be fine. We have made it here without places to stay and more time won’t hurt.” Spin responded, the sixteen-year-old standing up. “Steven, you can bring your wife but I suggest limiting everyone else. Max isn’t one for crowds.”

Bowie stayed silent, not moving from his chair as Bex led Spin to the door. 

“You better be there tomorrow. And you better bring his brother.” She warned in a firm, scary tone. One only a caring mother or devoted wife could muster. “Because if you’re not, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Don’t test me, woman. If I smell any fishy business. Max and I disappear and your husband in there, will never see his little brother again. Something that will be your fault. You already hid his daughter from him, do you want to be the one who makes him lose his brother again?”

Spin didn’t wait for a response, instead he walked out of the house and disappeared into the night.

The Macks didn’t sleep that night. 

One boy just threw everything into disarray like it was nothing. Andi spent half the night texting Buffy while she listened to her parents talk in soft voices, catching the sound of their locked cabinet being unlocked. She knew that was where they kept the alcohol and being honest she wasn’t going to judge after the events of that night. Bex paced around asking questions to herself, unable to sit down and be calm for even a moment; Though this cost her comforting Bowie, her affection didn’t seem to be working on the man.

Bowie stared at his reflection in a cool glass of vodka, parched and in desperate need for a drink but too lost in his own mind to even lift the glass to his lips. Reliving that horrible day in vivid detail. Unmoving and silent, trapped inside himself for a long while. Not feeling the tears rolling down his cheek.

That day had been perfect. Max’s big sixth birthday, a day where his big brother took him into the city to pick out his birthday cake. Smiles and laughter between them both. Max’s pink cheeks upturned in a wide childish grin, his eyes glistening with excitement that nothing could ruin. Or so Bowie thought.

Bowie regretted ever letting Max down off his shoulders. He had turned away for just a minute to pay for the cake, and when he looked back Max was gone. Then came the scream. The blood curdling sound ripping through the street, sending Bowie into a panic. His legs carried him outside in a flash and down into the alleyway his brother had somehow wandered into. There lay his body on the ground, the life draining from his face in a puddle of crimson. Hair matted with blood, eyes devoid of light and life. 

Max Quinn died that day. 

To accept anything else would be to throw away that moment that crushed Bowie to the point his mind repressed it for ten long years. Partly the reason he never made the trip to visit Andi; Some part of his mind couldn’t bear to let another kid into his life only to lose them the moment he walked out the door. 

A fear that would not have been shared in the adolescent mind of Spin. 

He cast long shadows over cracked pavement and smooth asphalt while walking under the cool light of a waxing moon that night, unfazed by the night air lashing at his cheeks. A bitter wind had picked up that rushed around the teenage boy, snaking under his shirt and up into his jeans. Cold seeped deep into his skin, bringing on a lighter hue that could be easily mistaken for blue skin. But while any ordinary person would shiver in this cold wind, try to find somewhere warm or bundle themselves up with their own arms in some attempt for warmth, Spin stared absently into the dark of night with no such concerns passing through his mind. 

Both his hands were tucked deep into the ravines of his pockets, playing lightly with the fabric and any loose string inside them. Absentmindedly distracting himself from the stinging pain in his neck. No longer Bionic, he may have some left over effects like immunity to the cold wind but he was now more susceptible to pain. The scar in his neck stung in the cold, but still Spin did not wince.

Tomorrow was going to change everything and he wasn’t going to let the pain get to him now.

From time to time the circuitry throughout his body would send a jolt, a twitch that ran through Spin’s entire body. A mild electrical current of Bionics searching for his chip, waiting for signals from the small device once embedded in his neck. Spin felt it. He hated it. A lifelong reminder of what he once was. Even if this current locked his legs and hips for a split second giving the sensation he could not move. 

He wasn’t going back. 

Death would meet him if he did, and if he was going to meet the bones in the black coat, he was going to do it on his own terms. Terms that first required dealing with the biggest issue on his plate at the moment.

Steven and Cookie Quinn.

Feelings for those two were mixed to say the least. Hatred boiled over all the rest of those feelings he pushed down, with a lurking fear in the boy easily subdued but ever present. After hearing Steven, or Bowie’s, side of the story, Spin could begin to understand a little. But teenage blind hatred would never let him forgive and forget. It happened. But Steven still held guilt. That was a start, and Spin could see if he deserved any forgiveness later.

He seemed to be doing well with a decently good-looking wife and a child of his own for now, though how long he had been in the picture was another question. Spin had taken note of photos around the house. Andi was not with Bowie in any of them through childhood. Perhaps this trauma, though locked in Bowie’s subconscious till tonight, affected him after all. He also noted the lack of his brother’s wife in those photos, only appearing in a couple. Normally it was a elderly Asian woman with the girl. There looked to be another person in the images but the way they were cropped into the frame, made them disappear.

Tomorrow would be painful, but answers will be gained on both sides. He just had to wonder how this ‘Bowie’ was going to handle his reveal. One way or another, everything would be changing.


End file.
